Christmas Time Again
by Xof Kalb
Summary: It’s the ten year anniversary of the end of the Colony-Earth war and Duo finds himself at a no name bar in a no name town with his fourth drink in front of him and an extremely drunk ex-OZ soldier sitting on the stool next to him. ONESHOT without a plot.


**Title:** Christmas Time Again

**Summary:** It's the ten year anniversary of the end of the Colony-Earth war and Duo finds himself at a no name bar in a no name town with his fourth drink in front of him and an extremely drunk ex-OZ soldier sitting on the stool next to him. ONESHOT with no real plot.

**Rating: **T for cursing and stuffs.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gundam Wing.

**Genre:** Humor?

**Pairings:** None

**Christmas Time Again**

The man was obviously drunk and probably off his rocker to boot. It was the only logical reason that Duo could think of for this forty-something man to be draping himself all friendly-like over his—a known Gundam pilot's—shoulders raving on about how close he'd come to taking down one of said accursed "Gundam pilots". And yes, the air quotes had been included. Multiple times, he might add.

Duo switched his drink from his left hand to his right, watching the glass slide across the polished wood and leave condensation in its wake, nodding at appropriate intervals in the man's story. He didn't recognize the battle from the man's description, but he couldn't be sure if it was just one he hadn't witnessed or if the man was just making the entire thing up.

He wasn't sure it even mattered in the first place.

"And so, there I was, staring down this humongous—hic—hunk of white and blue and another color that I can't remember at the moment metal," the man waved his drink, effectively splashing Duo with whatever had been in the glass and the twenty-five year old cringed, "And if it hadn't been for that other white—hic—suit that that Colonel Bastard always flaunted around, then I would've had him. But no, that Colonel Bastard had to pick _another_ fight with the Gundam. I swear—hic—sometimes I think that the Colonel Bastard was doing it on purpose, hogging all the glory. He always—hic—managed to show up in the nick of time and take the battle for himself. Bastard."

Duo bit back a grin and hid his chuckle behind his glass, figuring that the terms "other white suit" and "Colonel bastard" probably meant that Zechs was being mentioned. He liked the platinum haired man well enough, all things considered, but hearing someone else, especially an ex-OZ soldier, refer to Agent Wind with such a name as "Colonel Bastard" just tickled him pink.

"And then, and then, get this," the man continued, jostling Duo's shoulders roughly in his apparent glee. "While the Gundam and Colonel Bastard were fighting, I managed to get a shot off. And it hit! Thing was, though, it didn't hit the Gundam. It hit Colonel Bastard's suit!"

The man burst into hysterical guffaws, slipping his arm off of Duo's shoulders to take another drink, allowing the ex-pilot to steady himself and not feel as if he were about to fall off the chair and onto his backside. The man was getting louder in his tale telling and he was starting to think coming here had been a bad idea. It was widely known who the Gundam pilots were and if any of these people were also ex-Ozzies and were sober enough to recognize that the twenty-five year old with the braid at the bar wasn't just some kid looking to drink, he was going to have some trouble. Especially if any of them had grudges. Buried grudges always seemed to claw their way up from the proverbial grave when alcohol was involved.

Consciously tipping his baseball cap lower over his face, Duo dredged up the cash for his drinks and dropped it haphazardly onto the table as he slid off his seat. Getting out before that happened seemed to be a good idea.

"Hey, kid, where're you going?" The man drawled, shifting on his stool to face him. "I'm not done with the story yet."

Then again, he'd thought coming here to escape from Une's wrath had been a good idea as well.

Duo stopped and looked at the man, plastering an apologetic grin on his face by pure reflex. "Sorry, man. Gotta get runnin'. The girlfriend doesn't like it when I stay out too late on a holiday. Something about family and tradition. Maybe some other time?" The drunken man was still loud and if the other occupants of the small bar weren't already paying attention, they were now that the previously happy drunk had turned into a disappointed drunk.

Attention was bad. The man wearing the OZ military jacket tucked in the far corner was also bad. But so, apparently, was the disappointed drunk.

The man narrowed his eyes at Duo who continued to inch towards the door. "Son, I'm not done tellin' my story yet. Where I come from, leaving in the middle—hic—of a story an officer is kind enough to tell you is called disrespect. And being disrespectful is the same damned thing as insubordination. Now, why don't you come—hic—back over here and sit down so I can tell you the rest of my story?"

Definitely bad.

He really should learn to listen to Heero when he says, "Don't do it. You'll regret it." But, well, _damn_ did Duo love doing the exact opposite of what the other ex-pilot told him to do, even if it was the Heero in his head this time.

And hey, he'd had a couple of drinks himself.

He stopped walking. "What'll you do if I don't?" he asked through a Cheshire cat grin, drawing himself up in challenge. He knew he was practically asking for a fight, but maybe it would turn out to be therapeutic? Let off some of that pent up energy. This ten year anniversary was big for him, seeing as how he'd never imagined himself living this long in the first place. A fight seemed like as good a way to express himself as any.

The drunken man stood up. "I'll make you."

Duo laughed and it seemed like that alone was enough to set the man off as he charged—more like staggered—towards the braided man. Duo, still grinning, reared back his fist to punch him square in the nose.

Unfortunately, he didn't get to accomplish his goal as his target abruptly disappeared from sight and his fist met nothing but air, very nearly causing him to stumble and fall from over extending himself. He blinked and looked down to see the drunken man sprawled uselessly on the ground. He also saw a foot, which he found was connected to a leg, torso, and then to a head. A head topped with an unruly brown mop of hair.

Well, shit.

He retrieved his wayward fist and smiled. "Hey-a Heero. What brings you to this little hole in the wall? Can't be the drinks, 'cause they taste horrible."

Heero was frowning. And for Duo, Frowning Heero was not a Good Heero.

"I came here for you, Duo," Heero replied. "Une said you ran when-."

"I didn't run," Duo scowled, paused a moment, and then shrugged. "Okay, so I ran. What was I supposed to do, huh? I wasn't going to do it. Snowball's chance in Hell."

Heero stared at him. Actually, everyone was staring at him. Duo's scowl darkened.

"It wasn't worth it, Heero."

"Duo, it's just a-."

"Don't say it!"

"-dress."


End file.
